Powerless
by Lightning Streak
Summary: SamxDanny. Sam feels that Danny objectifies women, and she makes a poorly-worded wish that results in Danny switching bodies with Desiree. While trying to reverse the accident, Danny struggles with being a desirable woman who must obey wishes, and Desiree gets revenge by turning Danny's body into an objectified celebrity icon. Post PP. Requested by Invader Johnny.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_So Invader Johnny requested a story where Desiree and Danny switch bodies, and this is my response to that request. Hope you enjoy! _

_Summary: Danny switches bodies with Desiree per a poorly worded wish by Sam. While trying to reverse the accident, Danny struggles with being a desirable woman who must obey wishes, and Desiree enjoys turning Danny's body into a scandalous celebrity icon. Sam is a vindictive but slightly concerned third party. DxS. Post PP._

* * *

**Powerless**

**Chapter 1: Sam and Danny Just Don't Understand Each Other Sometimes**

* * *

Somewhere in the land of day dreams and hormone-charged thoughtlessness, Danny wavered, baby blue eyes staring at Paulina Sanchez as she sauntered past the lunch line. Her swinging hips were enough to hypnotize any red-blooded man—famous half-ghosts included.

Paulina looked out of the corner of her eye, her pink lips twitching up as she winked at him. Daniel Fenton, also known as Danny Phantom, had belonged to one Samantha Manson for nearly three years, ever since the Distasteroid. But that didn't stop Paulina from trying, or Danny from looking.

"Danny?" Sam asked from the other side of the lunch table.

"Hmm?" he responded dreamily.

Sam's voice was distant to him, straining with irritation. "…Danny?" When he did not respond right away, she pressed harder. "Come on, seriously? I'm trying to talk to you."

The boy blinked, looking away from the swaying backside of Paulina. "...Wha—? Huh?"

"You're doing it again," Sam said flatly. She stabbed her fork a little harder into her salad.

Danny's eyes eventually moved back to his girlfriend, only to realize that he had been staring at someone who was decidedly _not_ his girlfriend—and he blushed. "Oh, sorry. Bad habit." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, swallowing hard. His mind was still racing with images of Paulina's swaying hips, his mouth watering with the thought of them.

"Why is it still a habit with you?" Sam demanded, not entirely out of anger. Something in her expression was pained. "Am I not good enough anymore or something?"

"No, it's just…You know…" Now that everyone knew he was Danny Phantom, girls still tended to pay him a bit more attention. And sometimes he couldn't help himself by paying the attention back. He didn't mean much by it. It was just nice…sometimes. Especially because he knew he could get away with it.

What girl didn't want Danny Phantom checking her out? If it weren't for Sam nearly frothing at the mouth, they would probably all throw themselves at his feet. And if he were entirely honest with himself…he didn't mind the idea. As long as he got attention.

He bit his lip. "I'll be better, I promise." Then he fixated on Sam's chest. She had begun to fill out quite nicely, her small hourglass curving out in the best of ways. Danny was rather delighted by that, because he could almost forget about all the other girls he could have.

Sam crossed her arms, self-conscious. "That's not what I meant," she said flatly. "God, what is wrong with you lately? Why do I feel like you only talk to my boobs anymore?" She craned her neck to try and look at him straight. "My eyes are here, you know."

"I'm not talking to your boobs," he said, eyes wide. "Sam, I'm just appreciating the view. What's wrong with that? Don't girls like it when a guy appreciates the view?"

"Because the view's the _only_ thing you appreciate anymore," Sam said, eyes hard. "I know you think you can get away with a lot of things because you're _Danny Phantom_, but this is ridiculous. You think girls like being looked at like a piece of meat? There's a difference, Danny. There's a big difference. I'm beginning to think you respected me a lot more when I was one of the guys instead of your girlfriend."

Tucker appeared, setting his lunch tray on the table. "Hey, guys," he said brightly, completely ignorant. He sat down beside Sam. "What's up?"

Danny's eyes hardened, not even acknowledging Tucker's presence. "Look, Sam. It's not like I'm doing anything bad. I'm not infringing on your feminist ideals or whatever, but—"

"—My feminist ideals?" she repeated, eyebrows raised. Sam had always been a bit vindictive and sharp, and she could not help but rise to the challenge of an insult. "Like you even know what that word means."

Tucker frowned, staring between his two best friends with an awful sinking feeling in his stomach. They were arguing again, this time over the very topic he feared would break them apart.

Danny huffed. "Look, Sam, just because other girls are still interested in me doesn't mean that you're not my favorite. I mean, Paulina's got a nice set, but yours are much—"

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "You chauvinistic pig," she hissed. "I'm a human being, dammit." She pointed her finger out to Paulina and Star. "And even though I question it sometimes, they're human too. So stop acting like we're not. It's objectifying. I hate it."

"I'm not objectifying you!" he said. "Geez, you're so touchy."

"Danny," her voice strangled, "maybe it's fun for a little while to get that kind of attention, but it gets old fast. It makes me feel like dirt. And I can't respect you if you can't respect me."

Tucker's wide eyes began to nearly explode with fear. "Oh, wow. Look at the time," he laughed nervously. "I forgot I'm supposed to get to class…early…today! See you guys later, bye!" And he quickly grabbed his tray and left them, pulling on his hat hard so no one could see the look of discomfort and fear he had on his face. "Here they go again," he complained under his breath.

High school relationships rarely lasted—and everyone knew Sam and Danny had been arguing more in that bickering, old couple way that people got before a major break-up. What made it worse was that Danny Phantom had options. Many, many options—if only he wanted them. The once-unbreakable relationship had begun to struggle under Danny's incessant curiosity and Sam's irritation at trying to remind him that those girls simply wanted him for his ghost side.

"Look, now you made Tucker leave!" Danny complained. "Why do you have to be so emotional about this?"

"Emotional?" she repeated indignantly. "Emotional?! Danny, this isn't about emotion. It's about _respect_! Which apparently you have none for me. At all."

"So what—you just want me to not look at you?" he demanded, voice raising. People were beginning to look at them both now. "You want me to respect your emotions and _not_ look at my own girlfriend? Would that make you happy?"

"I want you to not look at me like I'm just a toy!" she yelled. "God, can't you get it through your head? What happened to dates that didn't involve just sex, huh?"

His face twisted in anger, and he tilted his head at her, eyes beginning to glow green in his infamous temper. "I so don't look at you like you're a toy! And don't tell me you don't like our dates!"

"You just use me!" she cried out. "That's all I am to you. You'd rather whore yourself out to girls that just want you for your freakin' powers. You don't really care about me anymore. Admit it."

He looked almost stunned. "Where the hell is this coming from?" he breathed.

"I don't know, you tell me," she retorted. "You're the one who changed."

"I didn't change," he retaliated, frowning. "You just got…I dunno, bitchy or something. You're always on my case. You're always trying to talk to me about feelings and weird stuff."

"Because I can't stand the way that everything's just physical." She looked pained. "I hate this. I hate what we've become."

After three years, he knew exactly what buttons to push to make Sam steam in anger. "That's not what you said last night," he said, voice lowering into a self-satisfied smirk.

The people at tables nearby gave an 'ooh,' even as they winced and lowered their heads, trying not to pay attention, even though they really wanted to.

Sam gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. "Then maybe we just need to stop," she said, her eyes reflecting unshed tears, voice hard. "I can't keep doing this, Danny. I can't keep letting you…use me like this."

"Well, fine," he said. He turned away. "I can't take you bitching at me all the time."

Sam blinked, her unshed tears suddenly slipping down her cheeks. She whispered. "Don't you understand? I just want my friend back."

"This _is _me," he told her levelly. "If you don't like it, you can leave." He raised his hands. "I'm not holding you back."

She raised her chin, some semblance of her old Manson dignity straightening her spine despite her tears. "Then I'll leave," she whispered. "And I'll stop holding you back."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Sam grabbed her lunch tray off the table and turned around, stalking off to the other side of the courtyard. Danny sat back down by himself, a strange, disturbed expression on his face. He grabbed onto his hamburger and bit down hard, chomping like a mad man to control his anger and sudden spike of guilt.

The entire courtyard tried to cover up the argument with their random chatting, but several people began to pass money under the table, repaying the entire network of betting Casper High on Sam and Danny's relationship.

Whispers. "See? Told you they'd blow up at each other by the end of the week."

"—Really laid into each other—"

"—Don't normally try to be the rebound girl, but I mean, it's freaking Danny Phantom, and anymore he's got a really sexy—"

"—bet he's really good in bed now, what with—"

"—Think he likes blonds instead?"

* * *

Sam sighed shakily, closing her eyes as she leaned against the bike rack railings, feeling her tears still roll down her face. Of course Danny wouldn't understand. She wanted him to herself, and she wanted him to look at her with desire—but not just for her body. He was getting worse under the influence of an inflated, superhero ego. And their arguments and loosening emotional ties were making his eyes wander.

She should have known. No one could really handle popularity without becoming a jerk. And Danny, with several years of an inferiority complex under his belt, was soaking in all the lost time, taking advantage of every bit. It almost reminded her of the time he was chosen as a judge for the Miss Teenage Happy Princess Beauty Pageant—but this time there was no end. She brushed frustrated tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

Maybe it _was_ time to break up, no matter how much it hurt. Sam felt as if their relationship had dipped to an all-time low, tethered only by Danny's hormonal lust for physical contact. It was beginning to make her feel like less of a human being and more of a chew toy. But of course he didn't understand; he thought everything was great, as long as he could sneak into her bed at night. He thought it was _great_ when people cooed over his muscles and powers.

Anger and irritation swarmed through her.

"Stupid boy. I wish he'd get massively objectified," she muttered vindictively, "by the most objectified person of all. And then he'd be powerless to stop it till he learned his _freakin' lesson_." She kicked the railings with her combat boot, then stalked off, her anger melting out into depression.

She should have known high school relationships never lasted.

* * *

And somewhere throughout the plains of the Earth, a wishing ghost felt her power pull her back to Amity Park. Desiree's beautiful red eyes narrowed as her sharp ears caught a young woman's plea. She knew that voice. She knew exactly who that voice was talking about.

"The ghost boy," she whispered. She generally tried to avoid Danny Phantom, as he had a bad habit of wrecking her plans. And ever since he had saved both the Human World and Ghost Zone from mass destruction, everyone was a bit more hesitant to get on his bad side. Only a few ghosts—like that idiot Skulker—were stupid enough to challenge him day in and out.

_ I wish he'd get massively objectified by the most objectified person of all. And then he'd be powerless to stop it till he learned his freakin' lesson. _

Something about the wording of that wish made her full lips twitch into an amused smile. "_I_ am the most objectified of them all," she acknowledged slowly. Desiree, the wishing ghost, the beautiful woman for whom empires had once fallen, had always been nothing more than a novelty to be used. When people saw her, they did not ever see _her_.

From a safe distance away, she stared at the angry Danny Fenton, and she tilted her head. "Your lovers wishes that I objectify you…so that you may _understand_?"

Some kind of vengeful humor overtook her as she began to calculate just how twisted the wish could be—and how much she could capitalize off of it herself. "Oh, keeper of Phantom's heart," she said softly, voice hard, smile sharp, "I know exactly how to awaken your lover's understanding."

She raised her thin arm up, green light searing from her graceful palm. The wish that Sam made was strong and coated with great passion—it would spurn her own power to greater heights. It would give her enough energy to escape her own afterlife. If only for a little while.

Her power core flickered bright with the wish. "So you have wished it, so shall it be!"

And then, suddenly, reality flipped.

* * *

Seconds passed in a quick blur as Danny felt himself suddenly black out, only to reawaken in the industrial construction section of Amity Park in a cold sweat and a strange, nauseated daze. _What the—?_

He felt as if he had been run over by a dump truck, which was odd, as he thought he had most certainly only been eating a hamburger just a minute ago. His head pounded, and he winced, not having felt so bad in a long time.

But as he recalibrated back to reality, he noticed the way his body met with the gravel ground was different—that his weight felt all shifted around and uneven, heaver on his chest and hips. He ran a hand through his hair in his typical habit, only to realize that it was very thick and long and silky, and—he grabbed a fistful of it in sudden panic, eyeing it strangely. The hand before him was green, and it wasn't his hand either. No, the fingers were long and tapered in thin, feminine lines, the wrists dainty.

Was he hallucinating? Something like cold ice water chilled down his spine. It felt real. It felt too real. Then he looked down at himself and saw the tops of full, green breasts, the flicker of a ghost tail covered by rich purples and blues and silver coins.

He opened his mouth to cry out in panic and fear, only to realize the voice that ripped from his throat was inherently feminine and familiar, like a mellow bell.

Absolute terror gripped him. In desperation, he looked at the factory buildings around him for some kind of reflective surface. Something was wrong—horribly wrong. He quickly flew to an old, broken window and pressed his hands against the cracked glass, eyes wide.

Instead of his own face reflected, the terrified face of Desiree stared back at him.

* * *

Back at Casper High, the body of Daniel Fenton sat at the lunch table, one moment in sullen anger, the next in distant thought. No one noticed the strange switch because it happened so quickly. His body hunched over, and his hands dropped his hamburger back onto his plate.

A new consciousness had suddenly stormed down the empty shell, filling in the neural synapses and power core with an entirely new set of directives.

Desiree blinked, feeling a bit dizzy as she began to settle into Danny's body as its host. It felt not entirely like looping several times on a magic carpet—something she had not done in centuries. She had also never stolen the body of a man before. She felt much larger than usual, more wide and solid. It was an odd feeling.

So this was Daniel Fenton.

In awe, she stared at the hands before her, inspecting the long fingers and hard callouses and hard veins that stormed up Danny's arms. He had certainly grown the last few years. These were the hands that had fought her several times and decimated her plans. These were the hands that had grabbed onto her and cast her into a soup thermos with the name Fenton on it—every time she was just amassing enough power to perform some really good wish-twisting.

A strange, uncharacteristic smirk pulled Danny's lips sideways, and his body quirked a brow. The slightest of red glows that had burrowed beneath his blue eyes faded as Desiree fully integrated into her new role as Danny Fenton.

She knew that to fulfill Sam's wish, she need only allow Danny a few days in her own body, so that he would suffer under the attention and powerlessness of her general existence. But…she did see a good opportunity for some personal revenge of her own…

And did his body not count as him as well? Was she only to punish his soul?

Desiree reached for the backpack that was slung alongside the edge of the table. Her curious eyes darkened with ideas. What secrets did Danny Phantom have? What could she do to "massively objectify" _all_ of him? Surely, there was something she could do…

She was nothing if not creative.

She began pulling out folders and textbooks, old papers that were graded—obviously, Daniel Fenton was still not a stellar student, judging by the excessive amount of red ink on everything. But she could not think of a way to use that against him, so she continued in her rummage.

Her hand suddenly hit a hard, rectangular card. It was creased up and battered, as if it had been at the bottom of Danny's backpack for quite some time. Huh.

"Uh, Danny?" Tucker's voice called out, nearing closer. Desiree stared at him from within Danny's body, tilting her head. She recognized this boy—he was the one who had wished for his own ghost powers nearly three years ago. Greedy and self-centered, as all men were, Desiree thought with a huff.

"Yes?" she said. Danny's voice rumbled lightly down her throat.

Tucker gave him a worried look. "Man, I know we joke all the time about girls and stuff, but I just saw Sam walk by me. And she was _crying_. I think you really hurt her feelings."

"Did I?" Desiree asked. She knew that she could not allow this boy to know the soul of Danny Fenton did not inhabit the body. She tried to make her voice indignant.

Tucker sighed, pulling off his hat. "Yeah, you did. Sam's my friend too, you know. So why don't you go apologize to her, man? I haven't seen her that angry in a long time."

Desiree looked down at the card she'd found in Danny's backpack. It was satin-smooth, of fine quality paper. The name _Giovanni Di Vita – Photographer_ shined in silver, along with a number and address in New York City.

A photographer. Those instant portrait painters, she realized. She even recognized the name; she had granted a few women's wishes to be photographed by the wild and eccentric foreigner.

Then the greatest idea hit her.

From Tucker's perspective, it looked as though Danny's distant eyes suddenly focused with realization. Tucker thought maybe he had finally gotten through to Danny, but inside Danny's body, Desiree was thinking that if she flew now, she could make it to New York by 2:00 pm.

There was no need to waste a minute of her revenge. The more damage she did before Danny learned his lesson, the better.

"I think," she told Tucker, "I have something more important to do first."

And without warning, she activated Danny's powers. Great rings of light stormed down her, and she blasted up into the sky, stretching free from the confines of Danny's human skin.

The other students paid the striking sight little mind at this point besides mild interest. Ever since the Distasteroid three years ago, they knew exactly who Danny was. And three years of it had lulled them into some strange kind of stability. Perhaps, they thought, he had sensed a ghost nearby. A few girls waved, watching him soar into the air, already trying to capitalize off of his fight with Sam.

But on Danny Phantom's face was a twisted smile. His body was paying the Casper High girls no mind at all, nor did he seem to care about the concerned friend he'd left in the dust.

"Oh, this body," Desiree breathed out in a strangled laugh, caught between awe and a vicious sense of jealousy. Phantom was truly a marvel. His power core was strong and stable on its own, pulling in energy from the air with solid intake. No wonder he was so strong; he was entirely self-sufficient. "No wishes, no need to obey!"

She shot an ectoplasmic blast at the clouds and giggled at the way the power decimated everything in its path—whereas her own power, without any wishes, would have merely teased the cloud a different shape.

With such a stable power core, she could fly whenever she wanted, say no whenever she wanted. No one could take anything away from her. And no one would dare to touch Danny Phantom if he did not wish it.

Desiree nearly laughed when she realized just how terrorized the ghost boy would be to awaken in her body with no way out. "He will know such fear," she wondered with a vindictive smile. "To be powerless without the wishes of others. To have to obey."

The people of Amity Park stared up at Danny Phantom as he flew by. Their faces carried admiration, respect, jealously even. The natural neural pathways of Daniel's brain seemed to feed into it, longing for such positive affirmation. Despite Sam's fears that Danny only wanted the physical attention, the ghost boy truly wanted respect, and he did get quite a bit of it.

But Desiree would have to change that. By the time she was through with Daniel Fenton's reputation, he would be the most recognized hero in America—in every way he never wanted.

"Now," she breathed with a smile, testing the limits of Danny's flight speed, "to New York for the instant portrait maker."

* * *

**A/N:** _I don't think Desiree is too often explored as an actual personality in the fandom, which is very convenient for the purpose of this story because she probably __**is**__ one of the most objectified ghosts ever. And I do think that Danny can be a real objectifying jerk sometimes and very dependent on girls' attention to his ghost side for self-worth. Oh, the things I have planned for both Desiree and Danny in the next chapter…_

_**Please review and let me know your thoughts/ideas!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Don't own DP. _

_Thanks to Invader Johnny, ShadowDragon357, and Fie for reviewing!_

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**Powerless**

**Chapter 2: The Gears in Their Heads Go Round and Round**

* * *

Danny felt truly nauseated. His shaking fingertips ran down his borrowed face with a horrible sense of déjà vu. "Oh man," he whispered. Desiree's voice inflected at his command. "I'm Desiree. _I'm _freakin' Desiree."

This very much reminded him of the time the ghost Poindexter had stolen his body and left his own for Danny. It had been disconcerting, to find himself in a new dimension and new body that was definitely not his. But at least that time, they were both guys.

This?

This was beyond weird.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to concentrate to push himself out of the body. But he was not simply overshadowing Desiree's body—he was its only occupant. Her nervous system reacted to his mind with not even a semblance of alien hesitance. There was nothing beyond him, no second mind resting latent beneath his.

In perhaps just as much of a terrifying realization, his (Desiree's?) power core was flickering poorly. Danny felt the weakness that ran through the body as a result. "What the hell?" he breathed, a bit dizzy, as if tidal waves of energy were leeching out of him all at once.

He began to realize that Desiree's power core did not pull in energy on its own. It needed some element—like Spectra needed misery—to survive. The feeling was not entirely like that of starvation, in which one's entire body nearly ached to the point of sickness.

He began to float down from the building's window, unable to keep himself up as he held his head, Desiree's soft, black hair weaving through his shaking fingertips. "Holy shit," he whispered, only to feel more fear overwhelm him at the sound of Desiree's voice again instead of his own.

He tried to think strategy over the static of the panic, staring at the body that believed it was his but definitely was not. He had to contact someone—get someone from help. Maybe he could call Sam, and she'd laugh, but…

Oh, wait.

That was right. He and Sam broke up.

He blinked at the weight of his thought, not quite understanding the full consequence of what had transpired at lunch time. They had broken up. Meaning, she would not help him. Meaning, she would not be there for him for the first time in nearly a decade.

Meaning, he was alone.

He swallowed hard, trying not to think too hard about the gravity of that thought. Maybe he could get to Tucker and plead for help, but Tucker had been taking Sam's side more and more. It made hanging out with him painful because he stood as a constant reminder of good, old days that no longer existed.

No, Tucker—whom he had blown off for several weeks—would probably not help him either. At least for a while.

He needed someone who could help him now. He could maybe fly to Jazz, who was nearly halfway across the country at Yale, all hidden away in some psychology lab.

Yeah. Family. The only other member of Team Phantom. She'd help, no matter what.

He grimaced, realizing his sister was probably the only other person on the whole planet would look at the form of Desiree but know enough of the mind behind it to see her caged brother.

Which reminded him, icy horror storming down his spine, of the potential that his real body, his own body, was out there. Somewhere. Doing stuff under the command of…Desiree herself?

The thought terrified him more than he cared to admit. "Oh man," he began to breathe a little harder, Desiree's lungs expanding and contracting shallowly. "This is bad. Very bad."

His mind raced. What had even caused this? Why had he ended up in Desiree's body? How would he reverse it?

But as he began to situate himself, forcing this weak body of his to begin flying all the way to Yale, the sound of rushing winds surrounded him, despite no winds pressing against him.

And a voice, like a muffled radio reel, wrapped him up in a cacophony of syllables and sounds.

_I wish_, some man's voice echoed in his head,_ I had the most beautiful woman in the world, right here, right now._

And then he realized that it was a wish. And Desiree fed off of wishes and the desires of others.

He felt his power flow out of him at the command of another person, and the strange feeling left him nauseated as it both weakened and then quickly strengthened him. Of its own according, his new body began to recalibrate and delegate power. His fingers sparked with green light.

Danny stared at Desiree's hand in fear. His body began to ache with the need to obey the wish and draw in the energy hidden within the wish itself. He tried to fight it, afraid of what would happen if he didn't. He curled in on himself, the thick, long hair covering him like a blanket. "No, no," he breathed. "No wishes today. Let's not."

But the pain only became worse as he fought it. It felt as if he were being ripped into two, his mind straining against his body. Sweat began to pour down his forehead. He couldn't fight for much longer without serious consequences.

So he did the only thing he could to stop the pain. "I…I have to obey."

He let go.

As soon as he stopped fighting, his arms (er, Desiree's arms?) lifted up on their own volition. "What is this?" he cried, terrified. The wish sunk into his body deep, strengthening his power core until it thrummed. And from Desiree's hands, the green light spread in a massive bubble of power, pulling him forward through time and space.

The next thing Danny knew, he was floating a few inches off of a wooden floor, staring at an empty living room.

Or, almost empty living room.

A middle-aged man stood before the mantle of a fireplace. He seemed human and incredibly non-descript, the hard lines of his face shadowing dark in the light.

For a second, Danny stared at him dumbly. Then he remembered what the man's wish was. And he realized, with a hard swallow, just how much trouble he was in.

…The most beautiful woman in the world?

The man stared at the body of Desiree with great longing. "A ghost?" he breathed, but he was not afraid. Instead, he walked closer, his head tilting.

Desiree's high cheekbones and slender jaws complimented her large eyes and hourglass body. In every way, she truly was the most beautiful woman in the world—the reason why Sultans had destroyed empires for her, promised her all their lands, given her titles. Though she was a ghost now, her green skin sparkled like emeralds, smooth and supple.

The man's thick hand reached out, as if to test that Desiree was not simply a hallucination. Danny tried to move away, but he realized his body would not cooperate. Something beyond his control kept him frozen before the man. Desiree's power core and whole body stalled, because she was at the mercy of the wisher. Always.

The man's fingers lightly brushed against Desiree's shoulder. "You're real," the man breathed, nearly laughing. Alcohol twisted from his breath to leech into the air between them. "You're actually real. The wishing ghost."

Danny's eyes widened. "Don't touch me," he hissed. His arms trembled as he tried to fight against the power the wish held over him. Fear began to leech into his mind.

Hands locked around his waist anyways, fingernails digging into Desiree's skin. "Ah, but baby," the man said, "you gotta grant me my wish first. I said I wanted to have the most beautiful woman. And you are."

The man's free hand ran down Desiree's face, stroking the ghost's, trembling, full lips. His fingers were moist and leathery, and Danny felt disgust and terror pour through him—not only because he was being hit on while being in a girl's body, but also because something was horribly sleazy and disgusting about the man himself.

It was the look, the desire for an absolute stranger, the animalism that made Danny feel nauseated.

"Don't do this," Danny said, swallowing hard, his body trembling between its spell-bound command to remain for the man and Danny's own will to move like a bat out of hell. "Seriously. This is really wrong. If you only knew…"

He desperately tried to think of a way to circumvent the wish before…before—

The man's hand began to trail downwards, sweeping from his neck to a place Danny's eyes widened. "Okay, I'm not kidding. Please. Stop."

The man smiled, hand hesitating on the swell of Desiree's breast, fingers hooking into the collar of the material of her harem top. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had a woman?" the man moaned. "Especially one like you."

Danny squeezed his eyes shut with a flinch, trying to pretend that this was not happening. He was hyperventilating. "Seriously," he said, voice strangling. "Stop. Please. I don't want this, and I really don't think you do either."

The man began backing Desiree's body against a wall, eyeing it with a wild hunger. "Oh, I think we're going to have fun first."

He paid no mind to the hitching breathing of Danny, whose mind was beginning to crack under the strain.

"Stop," Danny begged. "Don't."

He scoffed, leaning in closer. "You say that, but I know what you really want."

The man pressed his lips against Desiree's neck, and Danny's mind shattered. "Get away!" he screamed, Desiree's voice ripping from his throat in a hoarse cry. His voice glitched on the last syllable. It squeaked like a hinge, and as he opened his mouth again, his voice swept back into an octave far more masculine. "Don't touch me!"

His voice. It was his own voice.

The man stiffened in sudden shock, backing away. "What the—?"

Then the clock on the wall above them ticked a few minutes past, and suddenly the pull that kept Desiree's body tied down dissipated. Danny immediately snatched his body away from the man, turning intangible and storming through the walls—far, far away from everything and everyone.

Something burned behind his eyes, and he did not want to think about the fact that it was tears.

The outside world swam with the cool air of an early fall afternoon and the soft shine of the sun. It looked far too cheery and unaware of what had almost just happened to him. He remained intangible as he flew, desperately searching for a place to collapse and maybe throw up his lunch.

The wish had taken him to the far side of the city, in an apartment complex. But beyond the buildings was the beginning of a small forest. He flew into the trees the way a refugee would flee from armies, and he grabbed onto one of the highest limbs in the tree with the most foliage. He shivered as he rested on the limb, curling in on himself. "Man, that was so wrong," he whispered, eyes wide with horror. He didn't realize he was still hyperventilating until he realized that awful sound was himself.

And then his mind kept going back, wondering _what if what if what if_—

—What if the man had wished for an entire night? If his wish had not included the words "right now"?

Danny flinched at the thought, blinking hard as he stared at the ground below him in a daze. That man probably wouldn't have stopped and would have instead gotten more grabby, more disgusting, more needy…

A very real fear overcame him, which was that Desiree's afterlife was excessively more dangerous than he'd ever imagined. To be obedient to the wishes of others.

No wonder she twisted wishes as she did.

He rubbed at his arms, pulling up the material of the harem top in some mad attempt to brush away any memory of the man that had felt Desiree up. Whatever desire Danny had to look down Desiree's top was gone in that moment because he could not separate himself from the feeling of groping hands.

He wiped his throat where the man's lips had touched him with a disgusted hand, hardly even registering the fact that the voice coming out of Desiree's body was in fact his own now. "Gotta get out of here," he breathed shakily. "Gotta get help before…"

Then the invisible winds hit him again before he could even recognize them. _I wish for a whole room of bunnies! _cried a young, happy girl's voice.

And then his body quickly disappeared from the safety of the forest, forcing him to be pulled to another wish—this one from the small girl.

"Just bunnies?" Danny sighed in relief, suspiciously guarded. Her wish seemed harmless enough. He found himself floating outside the window of a young girl's room, where a small child was sitting on a pink bed, holding onto her pillow. His body again worked of its own volition, Desiree's power core revving up. He realized just how crazy it would be for the room to fill with living, furry animals. So he consciously thought over the wording of the wish and twisted its interpretation just enough so that instead of real bunnies, the girl was surrounded by stuffed ones.

She gasped in glee and squealed as multi-colored rabbits fell from the ceiling to fill her floor. "Yes!" she yelled.

Danny almost smiled, his mind latching onto the girl's happiness in a desperate attempt to forget the fallout of the previous wish he'd had to grant.

He looked away from the girl's room and realized he was right in the heart of Amity Park now.

Then the winds rushed again.

_I want a million dollars_, mused a miserable, glum woman.

Now he was in the business district of Amity Park.

The wishes came like a barrage of bullets.

_I wish someone else would make dinner—I wish people would notice me for once—I wish this damn printer worked—I wish I had a car that wouldn't freakin' break down all the time. _

He nearly cried in frustration, unable to move beyond the borders of Amity Park. Wishes kept coming in and forcing him to new homes and complexes, confronting new people in a twisting rage and fear that he could not bend from their basic wishes.

Maybe he would be stuck in some awful purgatory, in which his every move was dependent on someone else. He could feel Desiree's power core glow a bit more with the influx of wishes, but her power only served to make the next wishes more permanent, more influential. Most of the wishes, he didn't even know how he could twist to avoid granting them.

He swallowed hard. At this rate, he'd never make it to Yale in time. Jazz was too far away for him to make it there before another wish. He'd have to make a run for the nearest house, to the nearest person he could hope to convince to make a wish.

As he looked around at Amity Park, he realized what he would have to do with impending dread. Tucker lived closer to Elmerton. The closest person in Amity Park was, in fact, Sam.

"Shit," he breathed, almost fearfully. The thought of her sent some kind of weird butterflies fluttering in his stomach with nausea and heartache. Oh, she was going to kill him. She would not want to see him at all, especially not after their last fight.

She probably hated him now—maybe with good reason.

But he'd do what he had to do if it meant setting everything right. And escaping from the insanity of Desiree's existence.

* * *

To most of the people who lived in America, Danny Phantom was known as a very private, small-town superhero. He was inherently difficult to catch on camera and had declined nearly every photo shoot and interview he had ever been offered. So imagine Giovanni Di Vita's surprise when he looked up and saw Danny Phantom floating in his photo studio.

"Hello," the ghost boy waved, flashing bright, white teeth with a careless smile. "Are you busy?"

Giovanni Di Vita was an older Italian photographer who had immigrated to Germany at an early age. He was the resident golden photographer for every major fashion industry, and had been for many years. His accent was still thick and heavy, much like his beard.

"Danny Vantom," he said, startled. He lowered his camera in shock. The lingerie-clad models he was photographing broke out of their positions to stare as well. "Vat are you doing here?"

Phantom's body floated on its stomach several feet off the ground, looking down at Giovanni with deep interest. "I lost your card," Desiree said, Danny's voice light and careless. "I've been meaning to call you back, so I thought I'd just fly over." Desiree raised her chin to the white sheets that lined the room. "Got time to squeeze me in?"

The photographer gaped at Danny. "I…But—" He back trailed, gray eyes wide. "Of course! Yes. Yes, I do." He snapped his fingers. "For you, I have all the time in the world."

Giovanni waved the models off. "Ve vill finish this later," he told them. The models nodded and eyed Phantom's body with raised, sculpted brows. They sauntered out from behind the wall of standing cameras, shooting bedroom smiles.

Desiree soaked in the attention in amusement, raising an eyebrow of her own with feigned disinterest. It made the models eye Danny even harder.

Giovanni was pacing about in great shock and excitement, looking at his equipment to ensure it was all functioning properly. "You…vant me to photograph you now, huh?"

Desiree nodded, preening gloved fingers through Danny's soft, white hair. "But only you," she said. "Nothing but the best."

"Ov course, ov course." Giovanni turned around, and the entire room erupted into chaos. "I need my special camera!" he called. Assistants poured from doorways. "And ze black backgrounds! Get me more back lighting! For ze love of god, people, move it! Ve are photographing _Danny Vantom_!"

* * *

Half an hour later, Giovanni's camera snapped as he weaved around the chair that Desiree was sitting backwards on. She had carelessly slung Danny's body across it in a typical, disaffected display, tracking Giovanni with her eyes. "Good," Giovanni praised, "Good! For someone who avoids cameras, you know how to vork angles! You are a natural at this."

Danny's face shined in the snapping lights with a bright smile. "Secret power," she said.

The people around the room chuckled lightly, sitting back and watching in interest. Their eyes viewed Phantom with a pleasant respect.

Desiree smirked as she proper her head up with her hand. This was all too easy. And so, so amusing. The humans worshipped Phantom's body without demanding more than she was willing to give of it.

How nice.

Instead of grabby and possessive looks, Phantom received jealousy and admiration. No one could touch him.

But as much as she enjoyed it for herself, Desiree realized that her whole purpose for coming to Giovanni was not to simply reiterate Phantom's 'respectable' status quo. She frowned suddenly, her bottom lip pouting out. She'd have to try harder to destroy his sense of security. So, without any warning, she began to shrug out of the jumpsuit, revealing Danny's bare, broad shoulders and toned stomach, down to the sharp muscles that defined his waist.

The camera snapped faster, Giovanni's eyes widening not so much in surprise, but in intrigue.

Desiree smirked, crossing Danny's heavy arms over the wrought-iron bar of the chair. She'd done far, far worse things in her time as a harem girl. But it was a good start for Danny Phantom. Poor, self-conscious Danny Fenton would bear the brunt of human media for quite some time—all the cameras and noisy reporters and wild girls mindlessly attempting to tear his clothes off.

Oh, yes. By the time he got his own body back, the ghost boy wasn't going to just die from attention overload; he was going to suffer under the eyes of a population that would haunt him every waking minute. He was going to understand what it meant to be an object if it was the last thing Desiree did.

She had to obey the conditions of the wish, after all.

"I am surprised," said Giovanni as he snapped pictures. "I vas thinking you told me months ago zat you did not vant to become some media magnet. Zat you vanted to avoid all ze trouble vith paparazzi."

Desiree smiled, grinning Danny's white teeth shamelessly. "I changed my mind." She leaned forward, setting her chin on her arms. "No one remembers me anymore. Make me famous again. Something scandalous."

Giovanni stared at him in appreciation. "Do you vant to make any…particular statements?"

"I just want some attention," Desiree shrugged. "And some extra cash."

The photographer began to eye Danny, noting how well the ghost had toned in the last three years. The boy's broad shoulders caught the light just perfectly to accentuate his masculine angles. He was quite symmetrically attractive to the eye, and Giovanni did not question his good fortune. His own popularity would skyrocket as the only photographer with permission to photograph _the _Danny Phantom.

He declared, "Boy, after ve are done, your name vill sing from ze lips of every girl in America. Zey will scramble for your image!"

The ghost boy seemed pleased with this idea. "I like that," his tenor voice rang in satisfaction. "More than anything."

Giovanni hesitated with an idea. "…And I know zat you vant attention, so…how do you feel about losing those ridiculous, outdated jumpsuit pants and going 'au naturale?'"

Desiree quirked a white eyebrow in appreciation. "Whatever you wish."

And with a careless shrug, she unzipped the jumpsuit pants and shrugged out of them, baring Danny's entire body to the eye of Giovanni's camera.

* * *

_**A/N**__: If you have time, please leave a review with your thoughts. I didn't receive much feedback last chapter, so please let me know if there's anything you'd like to see, or if you've got any concerns! Thanks! _


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Don't down DP. _

_Thanks to Kixen, Mals42, DannyPhantom619, Invader Johnny, ShadowDragon357, Oblitus Angeli, IceQueenandFireQueen, MsFrizzle, The-Lost-Wanderer-07, ColoredCats, JoojooBrother, Roarri, and dreamchild333 for reviewing last chapter!_

_I know this chapter was a long time coming, but the beginning kept tripping me up. Sorry about that wait!_

* * *

**Powerless**

**Chapter 3: Love is Just a Word in Your Mind**

* * *

Danny was on the border of tears.

"Stop wishing," he begged to anyone willing to listen. "Please _stop_; this is insane!"

It was now almost evening, the sun setting deep between the clouds. Nearly everyone in the entire city of Amity Park had made some wish or another, strengthening Desiree's power core for greater and more effective wishes. Some of them, Danny feared, would have the potential to last forever, if the wisher wished it.

Danny had ended up traveling to nearly every apartment complex and house, feeling himself pulled to another's command. It was enough to drive him into desperation. He would do anything to make it stop. So the second that he came within view of the Manson home, he nearly dived for it.

He phased through the window of Sam's room and landed hard on the wooden floor in a flail of limbs and tangled locks. A soft shriek of surprise and fear echoed in the room. He looked up. Sam was sitting on her bed, a pen and notebook strewn across her lap. Her hair was pulled up in a haphazard ponytail. She wore an old pajama tank top and shorts.

"Desiree!" Sam breathed, eyes wide. She backed away on her bed. "What are you doing here?" She inched out a small blaster from underneath her bed pillow. "Get out before I—!"

Danny made sure that the voice he used was his own. "—Sam!" he begged, wincing as he peeled this body off of the floor. "Sam, it's me! Don't shoot! It's Danny!"

Sam blinked. The weapon stalled in her hands. The image of Desiree's body speaking with Danny's voice was enough to widen her eyes in shock. "What the—?"

Danny took the risk. "I'm trapped inside Desiree's body and it's killing me. I need your help. For the love of God, wish that I stay here for the night."

"Wait. Trapped like…Poindexter?" Sam said slowly, too confused to quite acknowledge yet that this was Danny. Then it hit her. She narrowed her eyes. "What did you _do_?"

"I didn't do anything!" he wailed. "Come on, wish me to stay! Wish me to stay!"

So far, no one had made another wish. Paranoia was making him desperate. Maybe he only had seconds—seconds that Sam was so ignorantly wasting.

Sam's face hardened against him, even though she lowered her blaster. "Hmm, you know, I seem to recall that you're a jerk, no matter what form you're in. Maybe I don't want to help you."

"Sam, please—"

"—No, get out of my house. Now."

"Are you kidding me?!" he cried out, voice strangled. "I've been running around like a slave, and I even got man-handled by an old dude! For the love of God, Sam. Please. Please make a wish before another one takes me away."

The seconds were precious, the soul of Daniel Fenton screaming for mercy from the visage of Desiree's red eyes.

Sam smiled and crossed her arms. "Nope," she said happily. "Not gonna help you."

He cried out, "Dammit, I'm going crazy! I can't do this!" He grabbed onto his hair, nearly pulling it out. He looked nauseated and afraid. "Seriously, you wouldn't make me go through that again, would you? Being felt up by some old dude? Worst thing ever—and that says something, considering my life."

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing. "What…exactly did he do?" she asked.

Danny tried to open his mouth, but then he realized that he was flushing and stammering just thinking about it. He blinked hard to clear his thoughts. "He did stuff," he said, voice strangling. "And I couldn't break away. Desiree's body's geared to obey wishes."

The amusement began to sink out of Sam's eyes, replaced by the first spark of concern. "Are you…gonna be okay?"

Danny swallowed hard. Talking about it brought up nausea again and made him feel as if it were still happening. He tried to hide the shake in Desiree's hands. He wanted to say he was fine, but words caught in his throat.

Sam nearly groaned as she stared at the frightened, haunted look in Desiree's face. "Oh my God," she mumbled. "I'm supposed to be mad at you. I'm _mad_ at you. I'm not going to help you." But before Danny could beg even more, she sighed and rubbed her temples. "Or I'm going to totally wimp out and help you. Fine. Alright. I wish you'd stay here for the rest of the night."

The wish sunk deep into his power core, his body accepting the command as one would breath in air. He relaxed onto the floor in a mess of limbs. "Oh, thank God," he breathed, closing his eyes. Everything was silent. "Thank God."

No wishes could go bad here. No creepy men would try to feel him up in Sam's house.

He looked up from the floor, eyes wide with awkward gratefulness.

Sam stared back at him, arms crossed. Her full lips were pressed tight into an unamused line. "Okay, I made your wish. Now tell me what are you doing here and in _Desiree's_ body?"

He swallowed back a shaky inhale. "I don't know," he breathed. "One minute, I'm sitting at lunch, the next I'm waking up in some construction zone in her body." He felt himself wail into something hysterical. "I don't know. I didn't make any wishes! I swear!"

Sam tilted her head, trying to think. "Lunch, huh? What would—" Then she cut herself off with a click of the mouth. Her eyes widened. "Oh…" An incredibly thoughtful and halfway amused expression crossed her face. "I would have never guessed Desiree."

Danny swallowed hard as he realized that Sam was not looking at him in pity or fear, as he'd hoped. Instead, she was terribly…aware? "Sam?" he asked hesitantly. "Did you wish this on me?"

"Maybe," she flipped her hair, her ponytail swinging. "But this isn't a bad look on you, really. Why don't you stay this way for a while."

He blinked. "You mean, you're not going to reverse your wish."

She gave him a blindly bright smile. "Nope."

"And you're just gonna…let me suffer like this?"

Something about that made her smile wider. "Yep." She began to brush her fingers through her ponytail nonchalantly. "Call it poetic justice. For all the crap you put me through."

Then he realized that he was beholden to Sam's wish, and would not be able to leave the house until morning. "Great," he moaned. "Why did I come here? Why didn't I just…chance Yale?"

"Too afraid of more adoring fans like that old man?" Sam asked pleasantly.

Danny glared at her. "Yeah, actually. Thanks for the support, _friend_."

"I would review the definition of friendship, but I don't think you're capable of understanding it." Her lips were stretched wide, but her eyes were hard with thirst for revenge. "Just gotta ride this one out."

"What did you even wish?" he begged, red eyes dark with anger. "What was the exact wording? So I know what I'm up against?"

She rubbed her temples. "I made a…statement," she said slowly, "about you needing to be objectified by the most objectified person, so you could learn a lesson. I don't remember the exact wording. Never thought Desiree, but hey, it makes sense."

"A lesson?" he demanded. "What lesson?"

She blinked at him. "Yeah, if you can't figure it out yourself, then maybe you shouldn't graduate next May."

He groaned. "Oh, come on! What are you punishing me for?"

Sam face palmed. "Good lord," she complained, running a hand down her face. "You are such a clueless _boy_. In case you forgot, you've been using me and oogling other girls like slabs of meat. You've become the most superficial idiot I've ever met."

He gaped at her for a minute. Never in his wildest dreams did he see Samantha Manson becoming the evil villain of the day. "You're seriously doing this to me because we broke up?"

Her eye twitched. "This has nothing to do with breaking up," she said heatedly. "It has everything to do with how bad you treat people."

Now that they were in the sanctity of Sam's personal room instead of the open public, neither were lowering their voices or holding back.

"How have I ever treated you wrong?" he demanded, voice raising. Desiree's face was twisted with anger and pain. "Come on, I never—Sam, I never did _anything _you didn't want me to do!"

Sam found herself disconcerted by the fact that she was arguing with an ex-boyfriend who was currently inhabiting a woman's body. She tried not to let it bother her too much, because now she had Danny listening. He had no one to peacock off in front of, and maybe him being in a girl's body would unsettle him just enough to understand.

"How about when you flirted with other girls in front of me?" she demanded. "Or you wrote off my feelings like they're pointless? Or, best of all, whenever you treated me like an object instead of a human being?" She crossed her arms and huffed. "Sounds like that old dude gave you a taste of your own medicine."

He gaped at her. "You're kidding me. That dude was like, practically ready to rape this body!" His face twisted in pain. "I never—I wouldn't—"

Sam snapped, "—So you think it's okay for you to have come to my room every night after treating me like shit and then expecting me to just…give you whatever you wanted?" Her voice cracked. "Most of the time, you weren't interested in _me_. And you'd keep pushing and pushing until I gave in. You never respected me."

For a time, Danny could say nothing at all. Desiree's face was twisted in total shock, her full lips gaping for words. He was thinking back on the nights he had phased through Sam's window and snuck under her covers with her. A blush of embarrassment snuck over Desiree's face, and it burned him. "It's not like you really cared for me either," he said, pained voice rising in challenge.

"Excuse me?" Sam said, a sculpted eyebrow raised.

He continued, mind racing, "Well, you just like me for my Phantom side, right? You haven't cared for Fenton for a long time, because you only like _special_ things." He was on a roll now, Desiree's face tight with displeasure. "You only began to like me after I became a superhero."

She looked at him, lips pressed together tightly. For a second, she said nothing, which told him that he had truly hit a nerve. "You think," she said, voice low, "that I only like you because you're a _ghost_?"

"Uh, yeah," he nodded, eyes narrowing. "Come on, I dare you to deny it. You just use me for my ghost side and the popularity boost it gives you to say you're screwing _Danny Phantom_. You never cared that much about me until I got ghost powers."

"Oh no," she snarled, voice twisting into something ugly. "I'm not dependent on you for anything, popularity least of all. I'm very, very rich, in case you forgot. I could've easily whored myself out for attention years ago. But I chose to have friendships with real people. I_ chose_ you and Tucker." She was nearly seething with pain and anger. "Do you understand? I liked Danny Fenton, way before he was ever Phantom. I liked his nerdiness and love for spaceships and how I could count on him for anything." Her voice nearly hitched. "And when you became Phantom, I accepted that because I realized underneath the powers, you were still the same old Danny Fenton. And now, I have no idea where he went. I don't know what happened."

Danny blinked. "But…" His mind raced. "Back when I tried to get rid of Phantom and just be Fenton, you were so angry."

"Yeah, because you were trying to avoid responsibility, as usual." She huffed at him, not even bothering to brush at her watering eyes. "If you'd stayed human, we'd all be dead, do you realize that? Do you ever think that maybe you became Phantom for a reason? That you were meant to do great things, like you always talked about when we were little?"

"Great things, huh." His face twisted. "Isn't a double standard, Sam? So you want me to be a superhero, but when I play along with the attention from it, you flip out."

"Because you're playing into the superficial scene you've always been obsessed with!" she cried out. "You don't see it. I love you for who you were, but other people only like you for what you are. And you're turning into _them_."

"You're just mad that I'm finally getting the attention I deserve," he said, eyes narrowing.

She narrowed her watery eyes right back. "No; I'm just_ disappointed_ in you for becoming a shallow jerk."

The weight of her words made him barely hide a wince. He turned his head away from her, suddenly thankful for Desiree's thick locks, which hid his face.

It fell very silent between them for some time. Danny was stuck in that house with her, per the wish, and Sam refused to budge until Danny acknowledged he was wrong.

He ran a hand through his hair, only to realize again that it was Desiree's, and he quickly pulled his hand back down and groaned. "What am I supposed to do? After three years, I figured you were tired of me anyway."

"Well, you're obviously tired of me." She waved him off. "Don't let me hold you back. Go and be Phantom and get girls with your body. You don't want anything else anymore."

"Because all we do anymore is fight!" he said, voice strangling. "You think that's fun for me?"

"And you think I want to fight with you all the time?" she shot back, pained. "But what am I supposed to do when you treat me like shit and then flirt with every other girl?"

For a second, guilt flashed through Desiree's face, searing deep into the eyes behind it. "It's not like we'd last anyway, right?" Danny breathed, looking away. "They say high school relationships don't make it. I started thinking about it one day. I realized…things are different now, because I can't escape other people's attention. I guess I just started to gear myself up for that kind of thing. You know, Phantom as the classic heartthrob superhero."

"I was right in front of you," she said brokenly. "I was right here. You hadn't lost me."

"For how long?" he said, voice raising. "How long were we going to last? Under cameras and interviews and other people? My rates with the people are better when I pay attention to _ love_ me like this. Superheroes are suave and confident, and other stuff like that. No one wants a nerdy and shy superhero. I don't want to be a nerdy and shy superhero."

"So you just thought it'd be okay to give up? To not fight for us—or even yourself?" She nearly laughed, but it was strained and bitter. "For as much as you fight ghosts, you always want to take the path of least resistance, don't you. Always a puppet for someone else." Disappointment and sadness dripped from her lips. "Always trying to get the love of people who could care less for you."

Something about her disappointment burned him greater than her tears. His nose scrunched up, and he looked away to hide the burn of tears in his own eyes. Damn this new body—he couldn't quite control it like his own. "Maybe it's better this way," he said shakily. "You know? I can't be just Danny Fenton anymore."

She swallowed hard. "No. No, I guess you can't." She waved at his current body, snorting. "Obviously."

"You know what I mean," Danny shot back in embarrassment.

But there was a finality between them—they could not turn back from the crumbling edges of their relationship.

Danny had a shake in his hands that he tried to hide by holding onto locks of Desiree's hair. The strands were soft and silky, but oh, could that body feel pain. The anger and hurt festered deep within, nearly bowing Danny forward under the weight of it. He had believed Desiree to be fairly heartless, but now he knew this body was almost as human as he was. It was disconcerting. It was even worse that _Sam_ was making him feel this way.

The terror that she was right had begun to seep into him. Maybe Sam really had loved him instead of just his Phantom side. Maybe he really was mixed up and messed up, and he'd become something…not good inside. Maybe his fan base didn't really love him.

Then Sam began to laugh bitterly at them both, the fighting bleeding out of her into depression. "Why did you even come here if you don't care about me? Why didn't you run to Paulina or your other fans?"

Danny grimaced, and Desiree's beautiful face twisted in uncertainty. "You know why," he said. "Look at me." Paulina would probably have screamed at the current sight of him (in fear for her life and in horror that a ghost was more beautiful than she was). There weren't a lot of people who would even believe it was him.

"So you're just using me again," Sam affirmed slowly, her purple eyes growing more and more pained. "You knew I couldn't turn you away, even after all of this."

He said nothing. Desiree's red eyes looked down to the floor. He wanted to say that he wasn't just using her…but that was how it started out, right? He did not even know how to unravel the tangles of his own thoughts to tell Sam that he was desperate and afraid and ashamed and guilty and—

Tears began to slip down Sam's face. She turned away. "Sometimes, I…I just wish I didn't love you," she whispered. "It'd make things easier."

Danny's eyes widened. "What?"

And then Desiree's body began to react. He panicked. "Sam, no!" He could feel the energy of the wish sink into his power core. He realized at the very heart of his soul, he still wanted Sam to love him.

"Maybe this is for the best," she said slowly, voice wavering. She was entirely aware of what she was doing. "You know?"

"NO!" he begged, voice tearing from his throat like a scream. She had to love him—what if she was right, and no one else really did love him as she did? He was still raw from their argument, too confused to make total sense of it. He just knew he would regret Sam's wish. "Don't make me; please don't make me! Sam!"

Desiree's arm lifted of its own volition, and green light seared out from the fingers. Then it dampened and died down under his command. He squeezed his eyes shut, rocking tight like a clam. Tears slipped down his face. "No, no, no," he whispered. Desiree's power core felt white-hot, as if he had drunk too much water and was still drinking. He wanted to vomit. "Stop it!"

He wanted to beg for forgiveness, anything to make her rescind the wish—but he couldn't really think to speak. His mind was blitzing under the strain of containing Desiree's natural core directives.

"Danny," Sam's voice strangled. She looked half-ready to run to him. "I want this wish. It's okay. This is for the best, I think. For both of us."

"No," he whispered. The power began to slip through his fingers anyway. Desiree's power stormed to Sam.

Sam gasped as it seeped into her eyes, lighting up her veins. Desiree's power reached deep into her mind, grabbing with sharp fingers onto her emotions for one Daniel Fenton and ripping them out. And as the fingers retracted, the green filaments of light from Desiree's fingertips carried a precious part of Sam's mind.

He could feel through Desiree's powers the true emotions Sam carried for him. It was a blinding light of warmth—love and patience, humming slow with pain that encompassed him entirely.

With horror, he realized Sam had really, truly loved him. Danny _Fenton_.

And then it was over, and all of Sam's emotions burned up under Desiree's power.

* * *

**A/N:** _I had more written, but I realized I've been hoarding this piece for some time, and I'm still working out some bugs on the second half of this scene. I hope to update again soon with more content! Credit for Sam wishing to not love Danny goes to __**ShadowDragon357**__. I thought about integrating this at a later point in the story, but I realized that the emotional impact on Danny's side (once this new Sam sees the outcome of his photo shoot) is much greater. Speaking of which, I had several concerns regarding the content of the photo shoot come up. For my own mind's sake, I'm keeping this story PG-13 and will not push certain boundaries there. _

_Please leave me your thoughts, questions, or ideas in a review! Thanks!_


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